Not What You Seem
by LightStruck
Summary: Just another year at Hogwarts for Harry. Yup. Except his new professor is definitely odd.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: **Not What You Seem

**Rating:** T?! Who knows? Who really knows? I don't.

**Warning**: Once again, badly written. And a crossover, so idk, anyone allergic to crossover?

**Disclaimer:** If i was JK Rowling i wouldn't be sitting at my computer at 5am writing fanfiction

**Summary: **Just another year at Hogwarts for Harry. Yup. Except his new professor is definitely odd.

* * *

Trees rushed past in a blur of green, flashes of the countryside as the train wove further through the landscape. The Hogwarts Express was perhaps not given the recognition it deserved; it always dutifully performed its task, delivering the students to the school without fail every September. This year was no exception. Harry had already made the journey to Hogwarts, his home, in this way three times so far. Well, actually it should have been four, but hey, interfering house elves and flying cars did the trick too, he supposed. Even if that particular mode of transportation had nearly got him expelled. Unlike his previous years however, this year Harry couldn't help but feel a deep sense of foreboding. It could be argued that he had every right to feel a bit wary boarding the train; Merlin knows that with each return to the school _something _had tried to kill him. That would probably be enough to prevent any boy with half a brain going back indefinitely.

Then again, Harry reasoned, it wouldn't be surprising if he had lost the plot a bit considering the number of traumatic experiences he'd encountered in his 14 years of life. If it had all happened in the muggle world, he would likely still be in therapy, or committed to an asylum.  
Luckily for him, the wizarding world had no such qualms about his sanity, simply brushing him off and sending him back on his way. Yes, Harry had every right to feel nervous about his upcoming year, all things considered, but it was more than that. It was a deep-seated feeling in his core that there was just something _wrong._

The jerking of the train lulled Harry further into his own mind.  
He almost confused the rocking of his body as someone violently shook him awake with the rocking of the compartment. Almost. But Hermione was very persistent.

"Harry! We're here. You're half asleep! Look, your glasses are askew, Ronald hold Crookshanks for a moment while –"

"I don't bloody think so, get that flea-bitten hairball away from me"

"Oh for God's sake." Rolling her eyes, Hermione unceremoniously dumped her large ginger cat in Ron's arms as he backed away. Ron froze. Both cat and human eyed each other.

"Ow! Merlin's beard Hermione! It's scratching my bloody arms off!"

She paid no attention, turning to Harry, who was straightening out his glasses in a daze. Helping him to his feet, she fussed over his hair, which had somehow managed to become even more disheveled than usual. Noticing his frown, she stopped and considered him with concern. Her brown eyes softened. "Are you okay?"

Harry hesitated. "Never better."

She seemed unconvinced, but to Harry's relief, dropped it and turned to gently pry a hissing Crookshanks from the top of Ron's head, where it seemed to have used its claws to anchor itself. Ron turned to Harry as soon they stepped down onto the station.

"I'm going to kill that sodding cat" he whispered savagely. Harry glanced at the rivets of blood dripping from his friend's forehead and winced in sympathy.

"I'll distract Hermione." He returned. Ron grinned at him, but managed to compose himself as Hermione joined them in the walk to the carriages. She looked at them in suspicion, tucking Crookshanks' basket more securely under her arm.

"What was that?"

"Huh?" Harry coughed. "We were.. er, you know… just wondering who the new Defence against the Dark Arts teacher would be."

Hermione bit her lip thoughtfully, skirting a large rock on the path. "Well whoever it is, I wish them luck. The job _is_ jinxed after all."

Harry was on the verge of a reply when he felt himself collide with something hard, the world tilted and suddenly he was sitting in the dirt. He blinked, rubbing his head where he could already feel a bruise forming. Oh well, at least his glasses hadn't fallen off.

A hand suddenly interfered with his line of sight as whatever he'd collided with, apparently a person, helped him to his feet. Still stunned, Harry allowed himself to be pulled up before addressing the stranger.

The first thing Harry noticed were a pair of brilliant blue eyes; eyes that sparkled with a mix of amusement and a deep intelligence. He was instantly reminded of Dumbledore - those eyes were the same vivid blue that gave Harry the feeling of being x-rayed. But Dumbledore had been an old man, over a hundred years old; this man was young and his eyes seemed out of place, the knowledge within them too vast for his age. His hair was jet black, much like Harry's own, and appeared to have the same inability to lie flat. He wore a blue shirt over black trousers, a brown coat and a red woolly scarf that was wrapped several times around his neck, enveloping him against the cold.

The man smiled and his expression was so open and friendly that Harry couldn't help but return it.

"Ah, I'm so sorry about that! I wasn't watching where I was going." His voice had a strange but interesting lilt to it, although it was rough like it hadn't been used in a while. His eyebrows were still raised in apology as Harry mentally shook himself and swept the mud from his knees.

"No, it's fine, I wasn't paying attention either" Harry insisted. But despite his objections, he could have sworn that there was nobody in front of them on the path a few moments ago.

"It's true sir, he was asleep on the train." Hermione intervened, elbowing Ron who was openly staring at the stranger.

Sheepishly, the man rubbed the back of his head and laughed. "Honestly, I'm so clumsy. I'm always banging into people." He contemplated them for a second before his eyes widened. "Oh! I just remembered I'm late, please excuse me, it was nice meeting you all!"

Hermione, Harry and Ron stood in shock as the man briskly strode away.

"Bloody hell." Ron breathed.

Harry couldn't have put it better himself.

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A/N: Been bouncing in my head a while. I don't know what i'm doing. I really appreciate reviews, so yeah tell me if anything is weird. Sorry that i'm rubbish at responding.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Merlin hummed to himself happily as he walked through the corridor, drinking in the familiar environment. True, he hadn't set foot in Hogwarts in nigh on 400 years, but he was a busy man with people to see and places to be. Coming back to the same school every century would get dull eventually, even one as magnificent as Hogwarts.

Still, he couldn't deny that the feeling of being surrounded by magic, which was as much a part of him as his ancient beating heart, warmed him to the core. The whole castle, from the foundations of the dungeons to the looming towers, was saturated in it. Merlin had initially been dismayed to watch as people slowly became less and less receptive to the magic of the old religion. It wasn't like the power had diminished, after all he was a creature of the old religion; if the strength of the old ways had faded Merlin wasn't sure where that would leave him. Over time, sorcerers found themselves unable to wield magic in its raw form, resorting instead to channeling the basic energy through sticks.

Well. Not sticks… wands.

Sometimes Merlin thought about the concept of the wand - to someone like him it was a strange thing to understand, but if he had to compare them to anything it would be Gilly's ring, which had served to amplify the boy's virtually non-existent magical ability into something with substance. Despite his misgivings, he soon discovered that he delighted in waving a stick around dramatically, even if the first endeavour of forcing his power through a wand had resulted in the explosion of half a building.

Acceptance of this new form of magic reminded him of the long and tedious hours spent slaving away in Gaius' chambers, painstakingly bent over dusty volumes as he attempted to teach himself control of his own magic, rather than only relying on his instinct. Watching the formation of modern magical society filled him with pride, although he was saddened by the secrecy which the wizards had confined themselves to.  
The rise of Voldemort, of course, had changed his feelings about that. He found himself relieved that those without magic had not seen the poisonous, ugly misuse of power that had occurred in those dark years. Just remembering that snake-faced, egotistical, ignorant, disgusting excuse for a wizard filled Merlin's body with such seething anger that he frightened himself. Such atrocities against his own kind… such prejudice, he had never witnessed since the reign of Uther. The scale of terror that one evil boy could bring had shook Merlin, almost into action. He had yearned to dive into battle, eyes blazing gold, delivering righteous punishment, coated in ash and blood and-

No.

No. Merlin shivered. The monster he would have turned into, after so long spent distracting himself with whimsical adventures to prevent a slow descent into madness through his own loneliness and grief, was too irritating to think about.

So he didn't.

He never spent long in his own memories and thoughts if he could help it, there was a large danger that he would lose himself to the insanity and the darkness that he was more than aware existed within him.

Instead, he focused on the task at hand. Teaching. With this new brighter train of thought, Merlin could feel his face spread into one of his signature clumsy grins. After his application for the post had been received and accepted by Dumbledore, he'd barely been able to contain his enthusiasm. It was ridiculous really, such an old man getting so happy over a teaching post where he would inevitably have to deal with the cockiness and attitude of children barely out of their teething stage. But Merlin had been alone for so long now that the opportunity to engage with new minds, even if to tolerate their cheekiness, was a welcome one.

Of course, he hadn't simply decided to apply for the job on impulse. There was a reason to his sudden involvement in the world, which he no longer really felt that he was part of anymore. That reason was a young 14 year old boy named Harry Potter, who he had just had the pleasure of bumping into. Quite literally.

The boy was not the only reason he had returned; that would be creepy to say the least. It wasn't an urge to interact with the teenager, who frankly had enough on his plate without an old warlock stalking him on top of everything. It was a primal feeling deep in Merlin's soul. It was the first time in a millennia that Merlin had felt so compelled to watch events from a closer area than the sidelines; that he had felt such a need to act on instinct.

He knew that he could help Harry. And from what he'd seen, Dumbledore was being frustratingly obscure as far as guidance went. In fact, the headmaster was almost as cryptic and unhelpful as Kilgarrah had been.  
Merlin turned the corner, too busy reminiscing the dragon's many infuriating and vague statements about "destiny" and "coins" that he failed to notice the tall dark figure directly in front of him.

For the second time in half an hour, Merlin crashed into someone.

That "someone" had turned out to be the sneering, black-haired potions master, Professor Snathe. No, wait. Merlin closed his eyes momentarily against the sight of his latest victim, who had smoothly stood and was currently sending venomous glares down at him. That wasn't quite right. Slate? Snake?

The potions master continued to shoot daggers at Merlin, who remained sprawled ungainly on the stone floor with his brow furrowed as he tried in vain to recall the man's name. Sprout? No, no that was the lovely herbology teacher.

"Snape!" Merlin exclaimed suddenly, leaping to his feet. "Professor Snape! Of course, I'm so sorry."

Professor Snape was unamused. The corner of his mouth curled in distaste as his black eyes raked over the combination of shabby muggle clothes, the beaming smile and unruly hair.

"Mr Emrys I presume."

Merlin ignored the cold emphasis that Snape put on the _Mister_, choosing instead to nod and straighten out his shirt. "Yes I am, and I'm so sorry for running into you."

Snape ignored him. "We've been waiting in the staff room, but you're late. I will take you there."

Merlin smiled again, undeterred by his cold reception, and was forced to jog slightly to keep up with the imposing figure. After turning a few corners at a brisk pace, they reached a large oak door, which automatically opened at their arrival. The smell of fresh herbal tea hit Merlin as he entered the room, his sour-faced companion just ahead of him.

The room was small, but brightly lit and warm. The entire space mainly seemed to be occupied by armchairs and ornate coffee tables.  
The members of staff were all clustered around a large fire, each had a squishy comfortable armchair of their own and all were engaged in conversation. At his arrival, the talking halted and immediately one of the teachers, who had been sitting on a plush tartan armchair, primly walked across to meet him. Her grey hair was neatly tied in a severe bun which rested under a pointed hat and she had a kind yet stern face, lined with age. Merlin recognised her as Professor McGonagall. She smiled tightly and offered her hand to him, which he took with a wide smile and shook. She had small hands and her bones were prominent with age.

At his easy smile, she seemed to soften. "Good evening, Professor Emrys. Welcome to Hogwarts, we're very pleased to have you."  
"And I'm pleased to be here, thank you." He returned, withdrawing his hand and thinking that his mother would be proud of his manners. Hunith was never one for rudeness.

"We were beginning to wonder if you'd fallen through a trap door and gotten lost, Professor." She continued with a smile as the staff members began to file out of the room, heading towards the Great Hall and the first Hogwarts feast of the year.

He laughed, "I'm really sorry about my tardiness, I'm afraid I lost track of time."

Professor McGonagall nodded in understanding, "That's quite alright, you managed to arrive before the students. If you would just follow the other teachers to the hall, I need to go and meet the first years in preparation for the sorting. I'm sure we'll have time to talk later."

"Of course, Professor. Thank you."

With a final exchange, Merlin joined the other teachers in the procession to the hall, smiling the entire way.

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A/N: Okay, I'd really like to say thank you so much to everyone who reviewed, they were lovely and really encouraging. Actually succeeded in encouraging me to write. For the person who asked how frequent my updates would be, i can guarantee that they won't be as frequent as this one. The reason i updated so fast was because i have exams really soon, so i'll need to go and study and yeah. Its going to be a while until the next? Unless i decide to procrastinate (as usual). But i'll say maybe a week in between chapters? no promises. and of course it depends on how you guys feel about where its all going. Sorry about this long prattle, hopefully you found this chapter okay. And as usual, feel free to point out any weirdness/mistakes, thank you


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three  
  
The tall, looming towers of Hogwarts, black and sharp, would appear intimidating at first to any stranger encountering the castle - particularly if that stranger was a muggle. But the jagged silhouette of the school was not entirely black tonight; light flooded from the large windows, light which blazed with a comforting warmth. The Great Hall was awash with the noise and colour of the first feast of the year. Students laughed and talked, eager to catch up with their friends after the summer holiday. For many, they had just left home.

For Harry, he had arrived.

He sat in the long benches of the Gryffindor house, surrounded by his friends, drinking in the feeling of _belonging_, rather than simply being. Neville and Luna had caught up to the trio as they were walking from the carriages to the main entrance; Harry had beamed with happiness at seeing them, even as he untangled himself from Luna's new "Nargle catcher". Harry glanced over at the Ravenclaw table in time to see his friend equip her signature radish earrings and gave her the thumbs up, which she acknowledged with a dazzling smile. Hermione was trying to reassure a distressed Neville, who had already lost his toad for the third time since enrolling in Hogwarts. Harry was pretty sure that by this point, Trevor was determined to make a run for it for the sunset, one hop at a time.

The double doors to the Great Hall opened dramatically as Professor McGonagall marched the nervous, trembling first years through the mass of students; the boisterous conversation of the students reduced to a murmur and finally, silence as the first years gathered in front of the high table. Professor McGonagall positioned a wonky wooden stool on the stone floor with a clatter, placing a tattered, old hat on top. A few of the first years looked confused, eyes darting around the room as if expecting a tv crew to waltz in with cameras, laughing at their naivety. It was pretty easy to pick out those students from a muggle family. And then, the hat opened its mouth.

Now, Harry appreciated the sorting hat, he really did. It had saved his life in his second year in the Chamber of Secrets and it had taken his decision into account in his own sorting - it was thanks to that ratty hat that he wasn't currently in silver and green. However, that didn't mean Harry had to appreciate its singing.

Until this point, Harry had been far too immersed in the company of his friends to notice the teachers; too caught up in the croaky recital of the hat to pick up on a change in staff.

This changed when Ron elbowed him really hard in the ribs and nodded, wide-eyed, to the teacher's table.

Glaring at his friend, who seemed to be in the middle of a disbelieving seizure, Harry slowly turned his attention to the members of staff, immediately catching the eye of Professor Dumbledore, who levelled that piercing blue gaze at him, eyes twinkling in the light of the hundreds of floating candles. Giving what he hoped was a friendly smile to the headmaster, Harry registered another pair of electric blue eyes along the table.

His jaw dropped.

There, sitting casually in the row of Professors, as if he had always been there, was the man that had knocked him over barely an hour previously. He was still dressed in the same clothes; his ridiculously large crimson scarf clashed painfully next to the solemn, black attire of Professor Snape who, it had to be said, did not look at all pleased with the seating arrangement. As Harry returned his attention back to the strange man, it was with shock to realise that he was now being watched by him. His skin prickled under the intensity of the gaze, which seemed to be... _assessing _him? He felt as if his very soul was being scrutinised, and the man seemed confused at what he found. Come to think of it, it was the first time Harry had seen the guy without a grin, although the moment didn't last long.

As if a switch had been flicked, the man winked at Harry, shooting him a friendly smile across the room.

A large cheer erupted from the Hufflepuff table as Kevin Whitby, a scrawny boy with dirty blonde hair and crooked teeth, was sorted into his new house. The boy looked quite overwhelmed by it all as his fellow housemates clapped him on the back in welcome. Harry realised with a jolt that the sorting was practically over, and that Hermione was staring wide-eyed at the front table.

A hush descended over the hall as the headmaster stood. Dumbledore may be old, but his eyes were bright as he opened his arms.

"Come on..." Ron groaned, eyeing his empty plate with desperation, his earlier shock seemingly completely overridden by the demands of his stomach.  
Dumbledore smiled, his deep voice echoed through the room.

"Tuck in."

Ron looked like Christmas had come early as the food appeared. Although he denied it later, Harry could have sworn he saw tears in his friends eyes as he stuffed his face.

Hermione leaned over the table, shifting her disgust at Ron's table manners to something of incredulity. "Harry, that man... he must be the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher!"

"Oh c'mon, 'Er-my-knee," Ron managed through a mouthful of potato before swallowing with difficulty, "look at him, does he look like a teacher to you? the bloke can't be older than 20."

At this reasoning, Harry looked back to see the man in animated conversation with Professor Sprout, who was giggling, her cheeks redder than usual.  
"Hmm.. i suppose he doesn't look like a Professor." Hermione mused. "But appearances can be deceiving, Ron. Honestly. Look at you, cramming your mouth with food. Anyone would think you're a pig when in reality.. huh... well maybe they aren't deceiving sometimes"

Harry snorted into his pumpkin juice.

Dumbledore stood again after everyone had finished, and as the room quietened, the raging storm outside the castle could be heard. The wind was howling and rain pelted the great windows, the thudding gave the impression of something knocking on the panes, trying to get inside.

"Now that we are fed and watered," Dumbledore began, "I would first like to remind students that the forbidden forest is out of bounds. Our caretaker Mr Filch has also added "Waltzing bananas" to the list of banned items, a full list of which can be seen in his office. I would also like to introduce our new defence against the dark arts teacher, Professor Emrys, who has travelled a long way to be here."

Harry joined in with the round of applause as the man ducked his head, embarrassed by the attention.

Hermione gave a triumphant look to Ron, who raised his eyebrows. "Well." he said to Harry, "at least we know the bloke's friendly. Doesn't look like he's a werewolf either. Or a deranged, self-obsessed fraud. And he has one face, so we know you-know-who isn't sharing his body, unless you know.. he has another face on his chest."

Harry nodded solemnly. After their previous teachers in the subject, Professor Emrys looked relatively normal. Then again, a part of Harry remembered that glint of age in the man's eyes. The feeling of something more beneath the youth. His eyes were drawn to the Slytherin table to judge the reaction there; Draco Malfoy looked as if someone had poured lemon juice into his cup. Or maybe his face was just like that naturally, Harry could never tell.

As the applause died down, Dumbledore smiled and continued, "I would also like to announce that the Quiddich cup is cancelled-" There were indigent mutterings at this, most loudly from the Weasley twins who held identical mutinous expressions, "-because Hogwarts is playing host to a new tournament. The Triwizard tournament, to be exact."

This announcement sent the hall into uproar, although Harry wasn't completely sure what was so exciting. Fred and George had taken a complete 360, their disgruntlement replaced by glee, which lasted about three seconds before the headmaster added, "Students above seventeen may enter. But only students above seventeen. Anyway. Off you trot. I know you're excited, but more information will be released closer to the time. Shoo!"

Harry joined the mass of students shuffling towards the doors, eager to ask his friends what exactly the tournament was. Why couldn't he just have a peaceful, uneventful year at Hogwarts for once? The sense of foreboding seemed even stronger at the announcement and the weather outside wasn't helping his worry. He looked back briefly at the mysterious new Professor, who's thin hand was being crushed within Hagrid's own.

It was definitely going to be another weird year.

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A/N: Hey! Its been a while huh? I'm sorry about that, but my exams are over (woo!) so thank you so much for waiting. Thanks to everyone who reviewed and wished me luck (I really, really needed it), and to everyone who's decided to follow this rubbish. I hope that you thought the chapter was okay, its currently 4:45 AM so if its terrible, i'm partly blaming that. i felt so guilty about not having a chapter up that i stayed up, but its the longest chapter so far so, they're definitely getting longer! Ta dah, yeah its bad. haha. And i know that Luna isn't really friends with Harry at the start of fourth book, but hey i like Luna so... yeah. Anyway, tell me what you think if you want and thanks again


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

Merlin rubbed his eyes blearily, eyes raking over his unpacked suitcases. The feast had taken it out of him. He had to admit that it was difficult keeping up appearances, but really it was to be expected after the amount of time he'd spent alone being generally unsociable. He almost wished that he could whip out his old Dragoon the Great disguise, if only to yell crankily at children for a few hours without compromising his position as a teacher.

Then again, patience was a virtue.

And if Merlin was good at anything, it was definitely patience.

He had walked through his new classroom on the way to his chambers. It was a nice room. Definitely good for teaching in, if a bit old fashioned and stern. Merlin would have to make it a friendlier environment; the addition of maybe one of those muggle smartboards and a HD TV. Maybe a lamp. He'd always wondered whether a job in interior design would have suited him, he could see himself on muggle TV.

Technology was amazing, the achievements that humankind could make in a few hundred years never ceased to astound Merlin. To think, none of it was down to magic! It was easy to adapt himself to the new world - he'd even bought himself an iPod. Of course, he'd smashed it to pieces trying to figure out how it worked, but one benefit of magic was that he never needed to send his products back for repair. It was a pity that Hogwarts was still caught in the middle ages, using candles instead of electricity. Merlin was almost transported back to Camelot. It was strange, he mused, that some wizards were so certain in their superiority to muggles, the idea of _pure blood_, when in many ways those they considered inferior lived in a brighter world.

That and he was willing to bet that even with magic, the likes of Lucius Malfoy could never create something as innovative as a microwave. Merlin had noticed his son in the hall, a little boy brought up in a bad family, influenced too much by the actions of his father. Shame; with a name like "Draco" Merlin would have hoped the boy to be as noble as his namesake, but dragons were not as hateful as the young Slytherin was proving himself to be. There was a tendril of darkness encompassing his heart, poisoning him into something much darker than a bully. Merlin had observed during the feast that a similar darkness resided within Harry, although it was not of his own making.

Walking up the stone stairs and into his new chambers, Merlin was glad to find that they suited his taste perfectly. The front was like an office with an old, oak desk, what looked like antique chairs and huge, empty bookshelves which stretched from floor to ceiling. The air was musty, although it was clear that the room had been thoroughly cleaned. Through a door at the back was a comfortable looking four poster bed, dresser, table and yet more empty shelves. The school obviously anticipated the scholarly type applying for the position.

Sighing, Merlin glanced over at one particular suitcase, which looked relatively small compared to the others, but in actuality housed an entire library. He would have to pick his favourite couple of hundred books and leave the rest in the case, which was probably wise anyway since most of his books were so old they would likely crumble to dust in the sunlight.

There was also the fact that some were incredibly rare, meaning that he could be accused of being a thief or ancient book dealer, and from experience, he knew that it was best to avoid that situation.

Collapsing into one of the armchairs, Merlin tiredly waved a hand and obediently, his luggage began unpacking itself. The room became brighter, golden, the scuffed furniture seemed to be thrust backwards in time, to a place where it was polished to a gleam. Flowers appeared in empty vases, arranging themselves to best bring colour into the office. Books levitated from the library suitcase and filled the shelves neatly in their designated place, the fire lit itself in the grate, illuminating the room in a hues of warm red.

Yawning, Merlin looked up to see the fossil of an ancient Fwooper bird perch itself on the wall.

"No, no. Not there, are you mad?" Merlin sighed irritably, "I don't want to see some old relic in here while I'm working."

The fossil hung its head, looking as sad at the rebuke as a fossil can.

"No. Go into the classroom or something, I'm sure the students would love seeing you there. Brighten it up a bit. Add to their education and whatnot."

The fossil dejectedly left the room.

Merlin felt a little bit guilty, particularly over the 'old relic' jibe. After all, he was one himself. But if unleashing his frustrations at an object would make him friendlier tomorrow for class, he didn't see a problem with it.

His furniture had stopped moving spontaneously, and overall the place looked a lot better. The rugs were definitely a nice addition. One trunk had remained locked through the unpacking, tightly sealed with several strong protective spells; it contained a great number of potentially dangerous and powerful artefacts that he had collected over the long years, including the Crystal of Neahtid. It would definitely be bad if a curious student got their hands on that.

Not that they could use it of course.

With a groan, he heaved his body from the chair, which threatened to suck him into its embrace for at least the next couple of centuries, and shuffled over to the door which led to his classroom. Opening it, he gave an approving nod at the new furnishings and decorations, carefully avoiding the judgmental empty eye sockets of the Fwooper, and retreated back to his bedroom. He decided that no further preparations for tomorrow were needed besides sleep.

His bed was now covered in a thick quilt and several blankets; Merlin was very cold a lot of the time and Hogwarts did not have central heating, to his constant dismay.

Quickly dressing and climbing into the inviting bed, he sank into the cushions. It really was a comfortable place to sleep, he thought dreamily, all plushy and slimy. The slime was a bit cold maybe, and borderline clammy but-

A loud croak broke Merlin's exhausted trance, his eyes flew open and he flung himself from the bed with such force that he collided with the bedside table and almost knocked himself out.

Wincing, he slowly cracked open an eyelid to get a good view of the culprit, a slimy toad which had nestled, quite unconcerned, in his covers and seemed to be eyeing him with an air of importance.

What the hell was a _toad_ doing in his bed?

A prank? A practical joke?

... or was this Arthur, awakened from Avalon at last in his true form.

It did have that same arrogant look about it.

No, that particular fairytale concerned frogs, not toads. Couldn't be King Prat. So that probably meant it belonged to a student; he vaguely remembered the list of permitted pets included toads, not that he could understand why anyone would possibly want a toad as a pet.  
Pushing his tangled blankets away from him, he stood and brusquely picked up the offending amphibian, dumping it in a glass box which had helpfully offered its services. He would have to find out who it belonged to in the morning, when he could be bothered. Which year did he have first period? Merlin racked his brains, which weren't really functioning at present.

... Fourth year. Harry's class then. And the Malfoy boy too. That should be interesting.

For now though, it was time to sleep and separate himself from reality.

* * *

A/N: Thanks again for your lovely reviews, although you guys are being way too nice about it *hides*. I really appreciate you taking the time to tell me whats what, so i'll address some things; I apologise for sometimes using lowercase "i", I honestly do feel ashamed about that haha. I can only attribute it to my complete laziness so please bear with me. Will this story feature Arthur?! How will Harry get into the tournament without Moody?! Valid questions, but I can't answer without ruining things. That said, what is Merlin without Arthur? Anyhow, I hope this chapter was okay, sorry if its slow paced, I don't want to rush anything.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

Harry, Ron and Hermione apprehensively made their way to classroom where their Defence against the Dark Arts lessons usually took place. None of them were too sure what to expect; their new teacher seemed nice enough, but who really knew when it came to this teaching position. They had definitely been disappointed before.

"At least he doesn't look like a nutter." Ron offered as they made their way down the crowded corridor, before stumbling into Harry as a gang of Slytherins pushed through them aggressively.

"Oi!" Ron yelled. When none of them made any response or sign of halting, he lowered his voice, muttering under his breath. "What a bunch of tossers."

Harry silently agreed.

"_Language _Ron." Hermione rebuked, huffing her frizzy hair out of her face.

It was a nice day outside, the sun was high and the air fresh. The windows in the school were all open, and a warm breeze filtered through the stuffy corridors.  
As they reached the room, they found that the majority of the class were already sitting inside, waiting for the lesson to begin. There was a large divide through the desks, effectively splitting them all into two groups: the Gryffindors and the Slytherins. Perched on the large desk at the front of the room sat the mysterious teacher himself, dressed in the same clothes as when he'd first arrived, minus the brown coat. The thick scarf was still present, albeit loosened around his neck, and without the additional coat, Harry could see just how thin and bony the new Professor was. His cheekbones cast shadows across his pale face in the light from the windows. Harry wondered how his own head hadn't been sliced open with their earlier collision.

A large, sleek owl was perched good-naturedly on his shoulder. At the attention of the class, it puffed up its plumage and raised its head, narrowing a pair of large golden eyes and shaking its feathers in what seemed like annoyance. With no visible prompting from the Professor, the owl extended its wings and launched through the nearby open window.

"Hello Everyone!" The man straightened, bouncing on the balls of his feet excitedly, "As you know, I'm Professor Emrys and I'm going to be your new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher."

There was a snigger from the Slytherin side of the gathering. Harry glanced over. Sure enough, there was Draco Malfoy with his lips curled in his customary distasteful sneer, eyebrows raised mockingly. "Aren't you a little young to be teaching us?"

Professor Emrys paused before laughing to himself, as though the Slytherin had said something incredibly amusing, "That's very kind of you Mr Malfoy."

Malfoy's face crumpled in confusion, no doubt wondering how an obvious insult had been turned into a compliment.

"I assure you all, I'm more than qualified." Their teacher chuckled again. "Anyhow, its very nice to meet you and I sincerely hope you enjoy yourselves in this subject. We'll be learning a range of defensive spells this year, and then we'll move on to the more impressive, showy spells. I trust you all managed to find the specified books?"

There was nodding from the class. Harry looked around to find that half the girls were staring at the Professor dreamily and that Malfoy still had that look of bewilderment. To Harry's surprise, he found himself already liking the teacher, which he hadn't imagined he would after losing Professor Lupin last year. Lupin had not only been a nice guy and source of help and advice, he had also turned out to be one of the best teachers that Harry had ever had. The man had also been keeping to himself the rather large secret that he transformed into a growling, hairy monster for one night every month.

"Oh!" Harry snapped out of his memories as the Professor stopped, mid-pace and walked behind his desk, muttering to himself as he disappeared behind it. Ron gave Harry a wide-eyed look that clearly read _'I was wrong, he's a nutter._'

Seconds later, the man popped back up with a triumphant grin, holding a glass box in his hand that contained -

"TREVOR!" Neville's relieved cry echoed as he stood, knocking over the books on his desk in the process. The Slytherins laughed and Neville blushed in embarrassment, bending to gather his scattered things. Harry noticed Goyle pick up Neville's ink bottle, which had rolled across the floor, and pocket it with a nasty grin at his fellow minion Crabbe. Furious, Harry readied himself to throw his quill, dart style, at the back of the bully's large head when suddenly, the Professor was standing in front of the thief's desk.

Silence descended.

Professor Emrys held out his hand, palm upwards, leveling Goyle with a frosty glare, his blue eyes as cutting as ice. Slowly, Goyle reached into his pocket and withdrew the stolen ink bottle, placing it on the pale hand; the man's thin fingers curled around the glass and Goyle's eyes widened in fear, the colour draining from his ugly, scrunched up face.

Toad in one hand, ink bottle in the other, their Professor strolled leisurely back to Neville, as though oblivious to the tension in the class, his cold expression melting into a more teasingly stern face as he approached the awe-struck boy.

"Next time, Mr Longbottom, please make sure that your pet asks me before crawling into my bed. I got quite a shock last night."

At this, the uncertain atmosphere shattered and the class dissolved into laughter, Neville's ears blazed tomato red as he hastily apologised.  
"Now." Their teacher resumed, running a hand through his messy hair, "the first spell we're going to get the hang of is a relatively difficult one, but considering your abilities as fourth year students, you should be fine. Can anyone tell me what spell we would use to counter an unfriendly hex?"

Hermione's hand shot up at lightning speed.

Professor Emrys beamed at her, "Miss Granger?"

"Erm, yes Sir. _Salvio Hexia_ is the most commonly used form of defence against hexes, although there are many variations of it depending on the nature of the hex."

Their teacher's grin became wider, he clapped his hands together excitedly, "Yes, exactly! Well researched Miss Granger, 10 points to Gryffindor. I didn't expect anyone to know that."

Hermione blushed at the praise.

At his friend's pleasure at being complimented, along with Goyle's humiliation, Harry's liking of the Professor had solidified. He also didn't doubt for one second that the man was qualified enough to teach them, he had seen the intelligence and enthusiasm for learning, despite his obvious youth.

Harry had to admit, the guy was charming.

"We're going to practice pronunciation first. One strangely emphasised word and before you know it, you're standing behind a very angry cow in Mexico. So, together now, '_Salvio Hexia'_."

The lesson progressed in earnest, the class had quickly mastered the wording and to his delight, Harry found that he easily understood what he was being taught. As the lesson drew to a close, their teacher demonstrated the appropriate movements needed for the spell with his own wand, something which resembled more of a hollow stick than any other wand Harry had encountered.

"So you see?" Professor Emrys smiled, "Just like a curve. Like you're jabbing someone after giving them a smack across the head. Good, great. Okay everyone, your homework-"

The class groaned.

"Well, don't be too enthusiastic about it." Their teacher laughed, "Don't worry, its nothing big. Just practice the movement for next lesson, you should all be experts by that time. Then we'll try casting the spell. Ah, yes, Miss Granger?"

Harry turned as Hermione lowered her hand and sat a little straighter now the class attention was focused on her. "Yes, erm, Sir I was just wondering..." Professor Emrys nodded encouragingly. "Erm… I think that skeleton is some kind of Fwooper? And i was wondering if its true that the song could drive a person insane?"

"Indeed it can, Miss Granger. Brilliant work, well done, you clearly know your stuff."

Hermione smiled shyly while Malfoy shot a scathing look at the teacher; it was clear that the man had not made as good of an impression on him as he had on Harry.

Ron turned to Harry, his face incredulous. _Insane?! _He mouthed.

Harry shrugged in reply, turning back to their teacher who was clearly noticing the stir among his students at the revelation. Some of the students closest to the fossil eyed it nervously.  
"Don't worry, don't worry." The man laughed, his blue eyes flashing. "Listening to his song over a period of time is enough to unscrew a few of your screws, but this guy has been dead for thousands of years, he can't hurt you. Besides, he's been in my care for a while now. Do I look insane to you?"

This last question was enforced by another burst of laughter.

Harry and Ron exchanged a look.

Professor Emrys resumed his pacing, before sitting on the edge of his desk and clapping his hands together. "Alrighty, when you're packed up you can go. Except for you, Mr Goyle, I want to remind you a few things about being a decent human being."

Harry packed his things quickly, surprised at how fast the lesson had passed. It was strange how the teacher had started immediately with practical work, not that he was complaining. He would much rather be training through experience than reading pages and pages of text describing the effects of the spells. His eyes flickered over to the figure of their teacher, who sat leafing through a thick book with one ankle over the other knee on his desk. It must have been the sun, Harry reasoned, that gave the distracted man such an otherworldly golden glow.

"That was actually a really good lesson!" Hermione beamed, linking arms with Ron and Harry as they walked out of the room.

"Pff. You're only saying that because he didn't call you a know it all."

"Honestly, Ron. You would have known the answers too if you read something once in a while."

Ron screwed his nose up. He was mid-protest when he suddenly froze, staring in shock at the end of the corridor. Harry followed his line of sight to catch a glimpse of a large, scarred man walking with Professor Dumbledore, who looked incredibly frail next to the bulk of flesh beside him. The man was frightening in appearance, rough, with one leg and what seemed to be a fake eye, which was unnerving in the way it rolled around in its socket.

The man wasn't looking directly at Harry, but he still couldn't shake the feeling that he was being watched. A shiver ran up his spine that had nothing to do with the cool wind playing with his hair.

"Who.. is that?" Harry lowered his voice, even though the man was too far away to hear, turning with the headmaster out of sight down an adjacent pathway.

Ron's eyes were wide, his voice a whisper.

"Mad-eye Moody."

* * *

A/N: Okay, firstly, I am so, incredibly sorry about the length of the last chapter. You guys want me to write more, so I'll try. I solemnly swear. Additionally, for the purposes of this story, and to save me from looking like an even bigger stupid idiot, lets just all pretend that Hogwarts CHOOSES not to use technology. ahaha. And erm. Lets also pretend that iPods were invented by 1994. Yeah. That's what happened. Okay? Great. Thank you for those who pointed that out, I spent the next day banging my head against every available surface. You can't say I didn't warn you, its even in the warning. In bold. Bad writing. I sincerely understand if my incompetence has offended you, its definitely offended me. But my shame has guilted me enough to write even more rubbish, which I will leave here to try and make up for disappointing you, okay? *edges away*


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

The forest was never quiet. Not on the outskirts at least; the noises there, heard among the dense tree trunks, made it quite clear why the place was forbidden. Strange howls, rustles and calls indicated the presence of the numerous magical creatures which had made the forest their home. The boundaries always seemed safe, friendly almost, and this feeling was enhanced with the addition of Hagrid's hut. It was impossible, laughable, to say that the forest was a pleasant environment, not when danger lurked behind every shadow, not when a wandering student could find themselves lost and soon eaten - an incident which was hardly pleasant.

Despite the dangers of the immediate expanse of trees, there were places deep in the heart of the forest that did not welcome visitors of any sort. Places which lay surrounded by an eerie silence, abandoned by life, the quiet so deafening that even the bravest of explorers wouldn't be able to stand it. Deep silence is a frightening thing, left only with the sound of your own blood rushing through veins, your own pulse, your own ragged breathing; such absence of noise is enough to turn anyone insane.

_Luckily_, thought Merlin, _I'm already insane_.

Well, not quite. Not quite _all_ of him.

Whistling a cheerful tune, he continued through the sinister clearing, stray branches snagging at his shirt, trying to ensnare him in their black embrace. Merlin paid no heed, he didn't come to such a depressing section of woodland to admire the scenery.

His mission was to find something.

Remembering the reason for his journey into the forbidden forest, at a time of night not generally considered as ideal for hiking, he allowed his expression to reveal the worry which had been eating at him through his afternoon classes.

At noon, when the demands of teaching had taken their toll on Merlin's stomach, he had been on his way to the Great Hall with high hopes of grabbing some sandwiches or a steaming bowl of soup; rounding the corner, he could already smell the thick, meaty lamb broth. Food hadn't really changed in the last millennia in terms of basic ingredients. Lamb, chicken and vegetables were pretty much the same, and actually Merlin had to admit that the vegetables Gaius used to buy from the market were much tastier than those produced through modern industry. There were benefits to the 21st century though, including mass production; there wasn't much chance of the wizarding population of England encountering starvation of the kind that Merlin used to endue on a regular basis. A little famine here and there was almost a common occurrence, to be expected, and as much a part of life as work.

Not that he missed that. Yeah, Merlin decided he liked this modern age of food availability.

In his hurry, he almost ran directly into two figures who were walking in the opposite direction, away from Dumbledore's office. He really needed to get out of that habit, it was becoming an almost daily incident.

"Ah, good afternoon Professor Emrys."

It was Dumbledore, with that same bright twinkle in his eye and his long, white beard safely secured in his belt to prevent him tripping over it. Merlin knew the difficulties of a beard, particularly a long, white one. If he had been trapped in his Dragoon body for eternity instead of this one, he could have bonded with the headmaster over it, maybe they would have become beard-buddies and braided each others hair.

Merlin glanced to the man's companion.

The feeling hit him like a sledgehammer.

His hackles rose at the sudden and intense rush of his magic, which boiled with the primal need to _defend _himself_.  
_  
To defend himself against the very large, very scarred man standing beside the headmaster, with his breath reeking of polyjuice potion and such an intense aura of mal intent that, in Merlin's scrutiny, it seemed to curl around him with a life of its own.

Merlin forced his mouth to smile, pushed his magic down with effort and returned the greeting with as much warmth as he could muster, swallowing down the metallic taste at the back of his mouth. He tore his eyes from the man to meet Dumbledore's keen gaze.

"Excellent timing, I would like to introduce you to an old friend, Alastor Moody. You've no doubt heard of him. He's regarded by many - including myself - to have been the greatest Auror of our time, of course retired from that particular field now. He's here from the ministry to oversee the Triwizard Tournament - make sure it goes off with a bang and no casualties. Alastor, this is our latest Defence against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Emrys."

Moody didn't offer his hand, but nodded in Merlin's direction, his electric blue eye, which had been swivelling in its socket in seemingly random directions, suddenly fixing on him in a way many would consider unnerving.

Merlin's smile was tight, "Pleasure to meet you, Mr Moody."

Dumbledore briefly checked the golden pocket watch he had retrieved from the folds of his vibrant, purple robe, "Well, we really must be going. Another time, Professor?"

"Of course, Headmaster."

The edge of Moody's cloak brushed Merlin as the pair continued walking. Merlin's eyes blazed molten, his magic violently pulled to the surface at the contact.

The false smile evaporated from his face as he closed his eyes, fist clenching, and remained still for several minutes to regain control of himself, allowing his consciousness to bleach the gold from his irises.

That man was not who he pretended to be, that much was absolutely certain - but to provoke such a reaction from Merlin, after he'd spent so many years free from the demands of the Old Religion. It was almost offensive; as if something as simple as a Polyjuice potion was enough to conceal the deceit from him. As if it were remotely possible for a renowned Auror to be so black and tainted. In Merlin's mind, it was as though Alastor Moody's skin had been peeled from his muscles before being plastered onto a dark humanoid creature. A creature which was now using Moody's form, his reputation and connections, to achieve an ultimate goal.

Knowing his luck, that goal would almost definitely involve Harry.

"Professor?"

The problem was that Merlin wouldn't know how the fake-Moody would plan to strike. If he had infiltrated the school to this extent, it was highly possible that he could attack Harry, or even Dumbledore, inside the school grounds. He was surprised that Dumbledore hadn't sensed anything wrong, but despite the headmaster's wisdom and power, he was still leagues away from Merlin's sense of danger. Or maybe it was just that Merlin was so used to betrayal that his magic had developed acute paranoia. With that dark aura... the imposter was probably one of Voldemort's supporters.

"... Professor?"

If he was Voldemort's supporter, than he wouldn't try and personally kill Harry. It was a known fact that the so-called "Dark Lord" wanted to kill the boy himself, any Death Eater foolish enough to disregard that would be a suicidal one.

"Professor!"

Merlin opened his eyes in alarm, jolted back to reality as a voice pierced his stream of thought and a small hand shook the front of his shirt.  
Reality politely informed him that he was still standing in the middle of the corridor, eyes closed and swaying slightly, with three concerned looking students in front of him. Ah, the Golden trio. It was almost like they followed him around.

Harry's eyebrows scrunched together, "Are.. are you-" He sent a look at his friend Ron, who shrugged. "-okay?"

Merlin realised that he had probably looked very odd.

"Yes, of course!" Merlin assured them, although by the looks on their faces, he hadn't done a very good job. "I just... forgot where I was supposed to be going, that's all."

They didn't look convinced. Kids were getting smarter, Merlin had to give credit where it was due. The young Hermione Granger was particularly intelligent and he found that he had enjoyed teaching her; her open enthusiasm was refreshing and, after spending the rest of the morning with other classes, he wished that the others would take a leaf from her book.

"So where are you three headed?" He asked brightly, shaking off his darker musings for later, reassured by the fact that the headmaster was escorting fake-Moody from the castle.

"The Great Hall." Hermione answered, voice shy in stark contrast to the confidence of her answers in class.

As the tension left his body, Merlin's stomach seemed to remember how hungry it was, emitting a loud growl. Ron's eyes widened.

Merlin laughed, "Oh yes, I think that's where I was going too, I'm starving. I might just head down to the kitchens on second thought, much closer."

"Oh God, no." Ron muttered as Hermione's eyes lit up with passion, her frizzy brown hair taking a life of its own as it moved around her face.  
"Sir." She began empathically, "Were you aware that Hogwarts makes use of House Elves to clean, cook and provide services?"

Merlin glanced, bemused, at Ron and Harry, who were wearing identical expressions of misery; it was clear that this was a regular topic of conversation in the group.

"Erm.. yes, yes I am."

"And are you aware that these elves do not receive payment or gratitude, instead they are treated like slaves! The whole race is prejudiced against, and furthermore, the... decree... liberty! Its just... to think that our food... elves.."

Merlin tried to listen. He understood where his young pupil was coming from, even more than Hermione could possibly understand; if the same conditions of work were forced on wizards, there would be social upheaval and suffering. Humans are unaccustomed to slavery on the same scale as the House Elves were, although it still existed in parts of the world. To the House Elves as a race, they were not slaves and their work was ingrained into them - they relished it. To change their way of life now would likely cause the same amount of social upheaval.

As a servant in Camelot, work was a part of life. You worked from the minute you woke, early in the dawn of the day, and kept on working until you collapsed into bed at night, with no days off unless you could manage to convince your dollophead king to give you one.

Which was never, in Merlin's case.

House Elves were much the same, the routine was a security for them. Even so, Merlin nodded politely as Hermione described, in detail, the injustices against the elves and the stand which students and teachers alike should take against them.

Eventually, she came to an end, and Merlin was convinced that his stomach had decided to eat itself in protest to his delay.

"You make a compelling argument, Miss Granger." Merlin grinned, "I admire your conviction. I will ensure to observe the conditions of the work environment in the kitchen... as I get something to eat. Have a good day!"

He shot them one last smile before skirting around the three and hurrying to the portrait which concealed the door to the kitchens.

Merlin carefully picked his way around a particularly poisonous clump of Ivy, making his way further into the clearing. The last time he had been in this area, the locals had a name for these sections of the forbidden forest, calling them the '_geardásprungennes'_, or, roughly translated, the 'gardens of Death'. Quite melodramatic in his opinion, but even if he was trespassing in Death's own back yard, it wasn't like the guy could do anything about it. Death had no hold over an Immortal.

After what seemed like at least a year had passed, Merlin found what he was looking for, sheltered and well-hidden, deep in the crevice of a small hollow of a bleached white paper Birch tree.

There lay a black flower, flecked with white, as though the rain itself had splattered the petals and washed the colour away in streaks. The stem and leaves were completely black, endowed with thorns which protruded about half an inch from the plant.

Gently, Merlin knelt, and placed his thumb and forefinger lightly around the flower stem, making sure to avoid the thorns, before reaching into his pocket and withdrawing a small cloth parcel. He deposited the bundle in the tree trunk and waited, fingers still wrapped around the flower.  
The ground seemed to open, the flower uprooted itself and was easily taken from its resting place.

The offering had been accepted.

It wasn't much, as far as offerings go; a pack of herbs, gems which had been ripped from the Earth by man, feathers and various clumps of animal fur. Hardly the liver of a first born son, or the left finger of a witch drowned at half past midnight on a Friday the 13th. But the Earth appreciated an offering of trinkets which had originated from the Earth, and it was a fair exchange for the flower which Merlin held. He could have simply grabbed it and ran, but that would have been rude and he couldn't tolerate rudeness.

He navigated his way back through the forest, the moon was still high and the path was brightly lit, so the task was easy. He wrapped his treasure in a draw-string bag and pocketed it, as he approached the last line of trees, beginning to make his way back towards the castle.  
Merlin stopped. A wand was poking him in the side of the neck, the pressure indicated that the person holding it didn't like him very much.

Merlin glanced sideways. Yup, just as he thought, Professor Snake.

Damn. No.

Snape. His black eyes were narrowed in suspicion, his mouth a thin line as he dug the twig further into Merlin's jugular.

"What," The potions master sneered, "on Earth are you doing traipsing around the forbidden forest at 3am, _Mister_ Emrys?"

Merlin grinned, side-stepping to escape the reaches of the wand and turning to face Snape, noting how the man almost seemed to blend completely with the night, his billowing black cloak acting as a solemn camouflage. He looked like a middle-aged vampire.

"Good evening, Sir." Merlin greeted politely.

His manners earned him a disgusted glare, which he brushed off with a carefree shrug. "I wasn't doing anything really, just sight seeing."

"At 3am." Snape's tone was dangerous. This was bad, Merlin knew that the guy didn't like him, but now it was clear that he didn't trust him either.

"Well, you know, I much prefer the dark. Besides, what were _you_ doing traipsing around at 3am?"

Snape's mouth curled, "I was performing a routine check on the grounds, under the headmasters orders, not that its any of your business _Mister _Emrys. I am aware that you are under no such instruction, so it begs the question: what exactly are you doing?"

Merlin edged away, keeping his smile firmly in place, "That's none of your business either, Sir. But I stick by my story that I was sightseeing." He opened his mouth to yawn, in a very exaggerated manner. "All that sightseeing has actually worn me out, so if you'll please excuse me, I'll return to my chamber."

When he was halfway to the entrance hall, Snape spoke.

"You'd better not give me reason to think you're up to something."

A warning, if not a barely concealed threat. Merlin spun and chuckled in what he hoped was an innocent way, although it was probably more deranged, "No, of course not Sir. Goodnight."

The inside of his pocket burned as he turned away from the head of Slytherin, his prize seemed heavy as though reminding him that he _was_ in fact, up to something.

Knowing that his intervention could potentially save Harry and the school from an unknown force of evil, which was currently wearing the face of a trusted ally... Merlin was pretty sure that he could take Snape's wrath.

And hopefully succeed, before it was too late.

* * *

A/N: Hey! Thank you so much for the lovely reviews, they were really encouraging. Apologies for the slight delay, this was actually quite hard to write, but its longer so hopefully that kinda makes up for it. As usual, I hope its okay and please feel free to point out any errors, or ask any questions. I will answer questions in this little section thingy here, so that everyone can benefit - I do appreciate you pointing out any stupid mistakes, it helps a lot. So yeah. For the person who wanted more Merlin POV, hopefully this has made you happier, ahaha.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

It was dark, dank and smelly, disguised with a kind of cold formality. Traits which Harry had come to heavily associate with the Slytherin house. The slimy, cold stone walls soaked in every last shred of warmth from the classroom; the chill seeped into his bones, despite the protection of his thick, black cloak and school jumper. Beside him, Hermione drew her own cloak tighter around herself, holding her hands closer to the flames that were being used to heat the class cauldrons. The room was filled with these small fires, but the dungeons seemed determined to remain bitterly cold, despite the glorious weather of the past few weeks.

It was just his luck to have potions last period on a Friday. The agony of an hour under the control of Hogwarts' sadistic potions master and working under conditions that would have shocked a Human Rights committee was frankly a rather depressing end to the day.

The potions master in question appeared to be in a foul mood, his scathing remarks and criticism were more frequent and his tone held an unforgiving edge. Neville had been singled out a record number of times, being mocked for his potion-making abilities and general incompetence on at least ten occasions through the course of the lesson. As per usual, Snape had left the instructions on the blackboard for the students; the recipe for the Laugh-Inducing Potion they were supposed to be brewing was detailed in neat handwriting.

Apparently, the end result was supposed to be red in colour.

Harry sincerely hoped that his own luminous green potion, which was spitting slightly, was a stage in the process of achieving this, but he didn't allow himself to hold out much hope.

After spending the majority of the lesson skulking from station to station with an air of disapproving contempt, Snape slowly halted at Neville's desk. The boy gulped, his skin coated in a sheen of sweat at the mere presence of their potion's Professor looming behind him.

"Tell me, Longbottom." Snape's drawl was laced with spite, "Does that resemble a Laugh-Inducing Potion in the slightest?"

Neville shook his head in a jerking movement, eyes fixed to the floor, "N-no, Sir."

"No?" Snape's mouth curled. He reached onto the desk and retrieved one of the ingredients for the potion, a sprig of green and red leaves. The colours blended into each other in a fusion of Summer and Autumn.

"Do you know what this is, Longbottom?"

Hermione tensed beside Harry. She frowned in obvious frustration, helpless to give Neville the answer which might have saved him from Snape's humiliating interrogation.

"They're leaves from a Alihotsy tree, Sir. They are used in potion making to induce hysteria and laughter."

Harry looked up in shock, to make sure that it had been _Neville_ who had spoken and, judging by the look on Hermione's face, given the correct answer.

Snape froze before placing the ingredient back down and eyeing the cauldron with distaste.

"Don't bother bottling a sample of that... concoction. I have secured your grade for this lesson."

Snarling, the surly teacher turned away and resumed his patrol without another word.

"Neville!" Seamus cackled in delight as the dark figure retreated, "Where did that come from?!"

Neville blushed and gave a small smile, "Professor Emrys lent me his copy of 'One thousand magical Herbs and Fungi'. Its brilliant! Its got so many notes in and extra details and there's a great section on Devil's Snare that-"

Ron shuddered. Harry silently agreed, they'd had enough experience with that particular plant to last a lifetime. Hermione was too lost in thought to share in the memory; she leaned forward across the solid oak table, pushing her hair from her face and wiping her brow. Harry glanced at her potion. Yep. It was definitely red.

"So he just gave you it?" She pushed, tilting her head in curiosity.

Neville nodded enthusiastically, "I met him at the greenhouses and he was helping Professor Sprout with the Mandrakes, it turns out he really loves plants and herbs. How great is that?! I told him that Herbology was my favourite subject and he was really nice about it, even lent me some of his books. He said I was a natural!"

Neville beamed. Harry noticed that Professor Snape had paused near their desk, his face twisted into an expression of loathing, as though someone had forced a vial of poison down his throat.

"The lesson is coming to a close, bottle your attempts and bring them to my desk for assessment. Clean up before you leave or you will have detention." There was a scraping of chairs as the class moved as one, eager to leave the unwelcoming dungeon and get to the feast.

Glumly, Harry stared into the neon depths of his cauldron, wondering how he'd managed to screw it up so magnificently. He supposed the only solution would be to throw the whole pot out and start again, but there was no time for that. A failed potion was better than no potion in the end.

He bottled up his sample, bringing it to the front and managing, by some miracle, to avoid catching Snape's eye.

As he packed his books away, he realised that the lesson had been lacking in one element. Draco Malfoy had not attended. Not that Harry was bothered, in fact it was a small mercy that the ridicule of the Head of Slytherin had not been accompanied by the snide comments of his favourite pupil.

Still, it was rare for Malfoy to miss a lesson, particularly Potions, which was the only class where he received special treatment.  
He was knocked from this line of thought when Ron smacked his bag into Harry's head, fumbling with the straps.

"Oh blood- sorry, mate."

Harry levelled him a flat look as they hastily withdrew from the room, but decided against throwing a diva fit, settling on shaking his head. Ron looked tired, but it was hard to evoke sympathy for his friend while knowing the cause of his exhaustion. It was the price paid for leaving all of his history of magic homework until the early hours of the morning.

"What do you reckon I should eat?" Ron groaned, dumping himself on the bench and staring longingly at the empty plates.

"Well," Hermione sniffed, sliding in beside him, "Know that whatever you choose will have the distinct sour taste of slavery."

Ron rolled his eyes with a grimace, "For crying out loud woman, will you give it a rest? Look, Dumbledore is like the greatest wizard ever, yeah? And he's all about morality, its like his whole thing. Personally if it were up to me, I'd throw the Slytherins in the lake for the giant squid and save everyone the hassle of living with them- nobody likes them. If Dumbledore can put up with _them_, he's bound to be monitoring the elves and stuff too."

Harry found himself nodding along with Ron's point, if not his eloquence. But for all the headmaster's good qualities and power, he was certainly not the best judge of character. Dumbledore's appointment of certain teachers, for example, raised definite queries regarding the boundless reserves of trust at the man's disposal. Snape for one, with his gloomy hatred of everything and everyone, wasn't really someone suited for a role in teaching young students. Trelawney was barking mad. Binns was a ghost. And not to mention that small incident three years ago, in which Dumbledore accidentally hired Voldemort as Defence against the Dark Arts teacher. Yeah, that had been a slight breach of security.

Not long after the trio had settled in their seats, the school ghosts arrived in a rush of icy air, gossiping with each other in hushed voices and clearly interested in the events which were about to unfold. Harry turned to find Sir Nicholas, the resident Gryffindor patron ghost, floating in suspension just above the silver plates. Their reflective surface gave the illusion of an eerie shadow beneath the ghost. Harry was about to greet him and enquire about his attempts at contacting the Headless Hunt this year, but halted at the look of confusion that had crossed Nick's face. He followed his gaze to the high table, and specifically, to one teacher in particular.

Professor Emrys met Nicholas' stare evenly, smiling slightly. He wore a red shirt today and his scarf was blue, as if on a whim the colours of his outfit had decided to swap around. It was surreal, but it seemed like the dead man and the perfectly healthy teacher held a certain similarity; the blue of the Professor's eyes were almost supernatural and haunting in their vivacity.

It was as though Nick had just come face to face with an ethereal being.

The moment passed and Nick looked away, blinking as though he'd just woken from a deep sleep. Or, considering that ghosts couldn't sleep, a trance. Noticing Harry, he smiled warmly.

"Good evening, Harry! Its good to see you again."

Harry responded in kind, and the ghost drifted closer with a secretive air, looking over his shoulder conspiringly.

"Have you heard about tonight? Are you excited, my boy?"

"About what?" Harry couldn't recall any notifications or announcements this morning, but that said, he had been kept awake most of the night by Ron's cursing and the frantic scribbling of a quill against parchment.

"Well-" Nick began, his voice eager.

Dumbledore cleared his throat, effectively cutting off Sir Nick's reply. There was silence.

After a few moments of bewildered hush, in which the headmaster said absolutely nothing, the muffled sound of voices and thudding steps could be heard behind the thick, oak doors which sealed the hall. These sounds became louder with each second as the source of the noise advanced.

The students looked around in puzzlement, eyes eventually fixing on the large double doors. Ron frowned, craning his neck to observe the entrance.

There were a few seconds of suspense, before the doors flew open to reveal a horde of...

...Students?

Harry goggled. There were only about twenty of them altogether, relatively normal-looking apart from the fact that they clearly weren't from Hogwarts. If the two new sets of uniform didn't give it away, Harry would have been able to tell by the grace and control which the students exhibited. It was all in the way they held themselves, and the vast majority of the new arrivals were poised like dancers. The girls were outfitted in exotic silk blue dresses; they all held a superior sort of fairness and they contrasted greatly to the Hogwarts students, who were gaping at the spectacle in shock. The group of boys, who had separated themselves from the other school, portrayed the very image of masculinity, adorned in thick, shaggy furs.

They stood awkwardly in the entrance, unsure of how to continue and under the unabashed scrutiny of the seated witches and wizards.  
Two people, a man and a woman, emerged from the group. It was clear that each was the leader of their school. Harry's eyes widened as he took in the woman, who was very handsome, with olive-skinned features and sleek hair. She was also extremely tall, towering above her pupils and even Hagrid, who sat gazing at her from the high table in a daze.

At this point, Dumbledore saw fit to explain the situation, beaming at the group in delight. "I have the honour of introducing the magical schools of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang." He gestured at the girls and boys respectively in a flourish of silver robes, "who will be our esteemed guests for the duration of the Triwizard Tournament. I trust that you will make them all feel at home. For our visitors I can only say, 'welcome to Hogwarts'! Now I'm sure you're all weary from your travels, so without further ado, choose any seat and enjoy the feast."  
As though waiting for the command, the plates filled with a variety of different food, some of which Harry had never seen before on the Hogwarts table. There were interesting looking shellfish dishes, as well as something that looked a lot like lobster but with a few too many claws, and brightly coloured foreign cuisine.

Harry piled as much as he could on his plate; he was starving and all too happy to shovel the new additions into his mouth with gusto.  
Halfway through a bite and soaking in the atmosphere brought by the new students, who had successfully mingled with his classmates and were deep in their own conversations, a sharp prod in the ribs caused him to choke. Hermione, who had poked him in the ribs, looked very apologetic while she thumped him vigorously on the back. Harry took slow sips of water for the next five minutes, coughing up the potato which he had inhaled at the sudden probing of his kidneys.

"I was just pointing out the new arrivals. Look, they're sitting next to Dumbledore. Oh Harry, you aren't dying calm down."

Glaring at her, he transferred his attention to the teachers. Sure enough, Ludo Bagman was now seated and tucking into a roast ham slice, while Mr. Crouch, Percy's boss, sat rigidly with a reserved air.

"What are they doing here?" Dean asked, his voice low.

"Well, they are representatives of the ministry." Ginny chimed in from her seat opposite Neville. "They did basically organise the whole thing."  
Ron sniggered, "Crouch looks like he's got a stick shoved up his-"

"Ronald!" Hermione scolded. "Look you're spilling gravy everywhere, stop going back for more food. Its not like we're being rationed you know."

Ron scowled. "Yes, mother."

"Hey.. who's the creep over there?" Dean was staring over Harry's shoulder. Turning, he saw the scarred, ominous figure they had encountered in the corridor a few days previous, the man that Ron referred to as 'Mad-eye Moody'. His magical eye, which Ron was adamant replaced the eye that had been lost battling a dark wizard, rotated in its socket, darting from student to student. His knarled hands clutched a flask, which he took a quick swig from before returning it to his heavy coat.

"So he _is_ here for the Tournament." Hermione whispered, confirming their speculations from the first encounter.

"But why Moody? He's like a world-class Auror?" Ron retaliated. "What do you think, Harry? ... Harry?"

Harry barely heard him, he was fixated on Professor Emrys, who was regarding Moody with a strange expression. In the reflected light of the thousands of candles, his eyes burned.

Dumbledore took his place at the front of the hall again as the last of the food disappeared and the conversations came to an end.

"Now." The headmasters voice commanded attention, ringing with authority across the hall. "All that remains is for the tournament to begin. I'm sure you'll all join me in welcoming Mr. Bartemius Crouch, Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation, and also Mr. Ludo Bagman, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports, both of whom are responsible for organising this tournament."

There was a brief and polite round of applause. The young Defence against the Dark Arts teacher was reclined in his chair, hair swept haphazardly across his face which held a beaming smile, as though proud of the older men's accomplishments.

"I would also like to briefly introduce Mr Moody, who you have all probably heard of as a renowned Auror. He is here to oversee the Tournament goes smoothly and without hindrance, he has volunteered as Head of Security, for which you should all be very grateful." There were whispers rather than applause, but Moody didn't seem to care, taking another swig from his flask and ignoring the mass of students.

"As you know, in the tournament, three champions are selected to represent each school." - excited murmuring from the crowd of students arose at the mention of champions - "and they will have to undertake three challenges in the ultimate test of bravery, skill and dedication. These champions will be chosen by the Goblet of Fire."

Filtch appeared from the shadows, apparently having been waiting in the sidelines for this moment; he relished in ceremoniously presenting Dumbledore with a kind of wooden casket, embedded with jewels. The headmaster tapped the case, which opened to reveal a carved goblet, which easily could have been mistaken for a regular drinking goblet, if not for the dancing blue flames which licked the rim of the cup. The flames made it impossible to mix up with his morning pumpkin juice, Harry wouldn't be drinking from that goblet unless he wanted to receive first degree burns.

"Anyone over seventeen will be able to put a slip of paper with their name on into the flames. Doing so marks you as an applicant for the tournament. On Halloween, those chosen will be withdrawn from the goblet. Don't think about trying to fool the rules, I have drawn an age line around the cup and if you are underage you will not be able to pass. That's all from me, and too much information at once will make your brain rot. So off you trot."

Everyone started talking at once, there was a buzz of excitement for the upcoming Tournament and bets were already being made on who the champions for each school would be.

Harry, Ron and Hermione stood and followed the crowd from the hall in silence. He couldn't shake the feeling as he left that someone was watching him with a savage fixation.

The way that a hunter watches its prey before moving in for the kill.

* * *

A/N: Imagine a thousand foot tall, burning concrete wall, covered in spikes, poison and barbed wire. It is surrounded by a moat, inhabited by crocodiles and sharks. There's also lava and armed guards with machine guns. You are accurately picturing the scale of my mental block these past weeks. Its been terrible, so everyone who promised me food had better deliver, you hear? I mean it, I want those cookies and brownies - do you know how many brain cells I've sacrificed to get this chapter up? Probably all of them. I will apologise for weird phrasing in past chapters (and most likely this one too) but you'll have to bear with me because most of the time I'm half-delirious when I'm writing this and I don't have anyone to check it. Nor would I wish that job on anyone, so you'll have to just close your eyes and count to ten when you encounter something oddly worded.  
Thank you again for the reviews, I read them so many times and they really help when I'm scraping the barrel of ideas. And THANK YOU for the person who reminded me about the ghosts because WOW, cannot believe I didn't mention them! I read everything back to double check because I really thought I had, God. Anyway, holidays are in two weeks so I really hope there's more time to write. So yeah, thanks, keep the reviews coming and I'll end this ridiculously long note here.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

The lake was a mirror, the natural glass pane of the land, reflecting the beauty of the forest; every hue of green blended with the deep blues of the overhead sky and were painted on the smooth expanse of water. A small breeze skimmed the lake's surface, distorting the colours briefly. Merlin sighed, bringing his knees closer to his chest and wrapping his arms around them.

A beautiful lake. Not Arthur's lake, not the gateway to Avalon, but a pretty good lake regardless. Merlin didn't want to compare it to anything. He just wasn't the kind of guy to place a label on a piece of scenery and force his expectations on it like that.

His scarf flapped behind him in the wind like a cape; Merlin knew that it was certainly long enough to make a cape, but he knew how annoying the damn things were, always catching on things and getting impossibly muddy. That said, all superheroes in the modern world wore capes, so Merlin supposed it was a matter of time before the power went to his head and he did make himself one. It spoke volumes about his personality when the likely result of him finally snapping would be spandex and a mask.

Sighing again, he rested his chin on his knees and looked into the depths of the lake instead of the surface. He wasn't a shallow guy either, after all.

A flicker of movement caught his eye and he squinted, leaning forward on his toes. A flash of flowing hair, seaweed-like in texture and colour skimmed the surface of the water. Attached to it, a fearsome grey face with glittering yellow eyes peered at Merlin intently.

He blinked in response. It wasn't that he was surprised at all that the Mer had chosen to dwell deep in the murky bottom of the great black lake, more that he expected them to remain there, rather than bother venturing to the surface. The Mer were fascinating creatures of magic, independent and completely disinterested in the affairs of humans and wizards, yet at the same time, popular subjects of folklore. Frequent sightings had inspired myths and stories in men; they were unsurprisingly preferred to be known as a race of beautiful maidens with fish additions rather than sea monsters. In actuality, the Mer People had many variations in appearance depending on where they lived, those who lived in warmer waters tended to fulfill the human perception of "mermaids", whereas those who lived in colder areas such as the Black Lake were more likely to be selkies.

This particular Mer broke the surface of the lake with one grey and scaly finger, dripping water as it beckoned to Merlin insistently from a few feet away.

He frowned and looked around to double check that he was alone. Years of secrecy had made him very careful about his identity and associations, and he knew that it wasn't normal for the Mer to seek contact with anyone. He raised his eyebrows at the creature, who maintained its weird eye gaze through the water.

It was strange, the Mer were perfectly capable of breathing air for a short period of time, although he knew that they did not enjoy it.  
The finger beckoned again, more frantically, the slimy skin reflecting the dim light of the sun like solid silver. Grimacing, Merlin reluctantly began taking off his boots and socks before rolling his trousers up to the knee, muttering to himself the whole time about the unfairness of the situation. He'd only come to sit by the lake for a moment of relaxation and quiet contemplation before breakfast and his first classes, but no. The universe wouldn't even grant him that. It was 6am, hardly a time for a swim. He didn't care how much the Mer insisted, he was definitely not going below knee level.

As he walked into the - _god bloody freezing cold, this had better be good_ - lake, he faintly hoped that the creature wouldn't try and drown him. He didn't want to get too wet.

He stopped just as the water started gently lapping at the edges of his trousers, approaching the Mer without hesitation or fear, merely confusion. And a bit of annoyance. The Mer seemed to realise that this was all he was willing to compromise, and swam to meet him, eyes flashing as it raised itself above the icy cold water, green hair plastered to its pale face. Merlin could see the powerful silver tail moving beneath the surface, slightly folded in on itself as it reached shallower water. He crouched, so that he was face to face with the creature, wincing slightly as the water soaked through his clothes. He wondered if forcing the water out of his way and creating an area of dry land in Black Lake would count as an abuse of power. Probably.

A clammy hand reached for him, wrapping around his wrist in a vice-like grip. Merlin tilted his head slightly as the Mer used its hold on his arm to draw closer, until Merlin could see the jagged edges of its broken teeth quite clearly.

_Emrys_.

The language would sound like a screeching, blood-curdling noise to those unfamiliar with it. Luckily for Merlin, he had been to Greece for a few decades in his aimless travelling and learned the Merish tongue to pass some time. To connect different cultures and civilisations, in the same species and between them, mastering languages was crucial, so Merlin took great pains to learn as many as he could. As a servant, he had never been as academically inclined, despite being Gaius' apprentice. Now, he soaked in knowledge like a sponge. He wrinkled his nose slightly. Like an elderly man.

_Emrys_. The Mer tightened his hold slightly. Merlin focused on the task at hand. Right. Crouching in a freezing lake for some reason, being manhandled by a beast of the deep. He took a deep breath, racking his brains.

_Hello.  
_  
His greeting came out a bit awkward, his vowels were definitely rusty, but given the nature of speaking maybe that added to the accent; judging by the way the Mer's eyes widened, it hadn't expected Merlin to be able to understand at all, so he counted it as a success.  
Merlin pulled out his warmest smile, which seemed to shock the creature more. Or maybe he just looked really goofy. _What can I do for you?_  
The Mer bared its teeth in what possibly could have been interpreted as a grin, but was actually vaguely terrifying. _Emrys, we could feel your presence. We do not care for the wizards but you are as we are._

Merlin's eyes widened. Although he had spent more time with creatures of magic than wizards or humans over the past centuries, he had not expected to be known among the Mer, particularly this small colony in the Hogwarts lake of Scotland. He frowned slightly. Unless he'd been really out of it in Greece, done something stupid and the word had spread.

_Do you want something from me? _He opted to ask, dodging the rather large question of how he'd come to be known among them.

The Merman, it was clearly male now that it had partly risen from the lake, shook its head, splashing Merlin slightly. _I was called to observe and to show our goodwill. Your power is a beacon, Emrys. Both to us and to unfriendly eyes, of which there are many. Be wary._

With that, the Mer released its grip on his arm, and slowly placed a smooth, black pebble in Merlin's palm, before submerging completely.

Within seconds, all trace of the Lake's inhabitant was gone and Merlin was left looking more than a bit ridiculous, squatting in the lake holding a small stone.

He stood, quickly walking back to shore; as the icy lake receded around his legs, they were left numb with cold. Merlin decided quickly that it definitely was not an abuse of power to put himself out of misery, and with a thought, his legs regained feeling and his clothes dried, unfolding to cover his bare skin again. He couldn't quite mask the smell of the lake, but decided he didn't care.

On his way back to the castle, he examined the gift. It was a chunk of beach glass, certainly beautiful, with veins of blue running through the polished black, not overly expensive, but meant as a token of respect. If the Mer could feel his presence in the depths, he clearly wasn't shielding himself properly, although his proximity to them by the lake hadn't helped matters. Perhaps the nymphs had informed the lake creatures of his arrival.

Mentally shrugging, Merlin passed through his classroom and opened the door to his office, sighing contentedly as the warmth of the fire hit him. Placing the stone carefully on his desk, he flopped into the cushy armchair next to the grate and closed his eyes.

A few seconds passed before he felt the shift in temperature to his left. Gods, it was one thing after another today, and before breakfast too. Merlin didn't bother opening his eyes as he addressed his guest. "I was wondering when you'd come and visit. Would you like to sit down?"  
The cold spot moved, indicating the ghost's new position directly in front of him, but his question was greeted with silence. He cracked open an eyelid. Sir Nicholas stood nervously, openly staring at him in something approaching awe. As though just registering that he had been asked something, Nick swallowed, shaking his head, which wobbled precariously on his neck. "No... no thank you. My Lord."

Merlin laughed in surprise. "I'm not a Lord."

The ghost regarded him with shock, "You- your magic. Its- You must be- surely."

"Ah. Yes, well, I'm actually incognito at the moment, so I'd greatly appreciate it if you kept that amongst yourselves while I'm in Hogwarts. So none of that 'Lord' nonsense." Merlin smiled, showing his teeth. He knew that the ghosts would recognise his strength, they were very perceptive to that kind of thing. A few of them had probably met him the last time he was in Hogwarts. He knew that Nick had, centuries ago before he died, which probably caused a lot of confusion. Despite that, they didn't know who he was - not exactly. Which worked for him.  
"I- of course." Nick stammered, before blinking bemusedly.

"So," Merlin propped his head up on a hand, "how's life - or rather death - been at Hogwarts for you?"

And so, for the next hour, Sir Nicholas enthusiastically filled Merlin in on every piece of gossip that the ghosts had managed to wrangle together over the years. Some of the information was completely out of date, applying to long dead students from an age ago, but Merlin appreciated the effort regardless, though he was less than concerned about Effie Telford's frog or an exploding cauldron which caused an accident in the 18th century.

His fourth year classes were still in the middle of learning hex deflection spells, which Merlin was rather enjoying teaching; his sense of pride had greatly escalated as the students grew stronger and more experienced. Absent-mindedly, he sipped a cup of tea and watched their practice with a careful eye; he knew that accidents always happen in practicals, and had been forced to intervene and redirect hexes which had threatened to hit students who hadn't done their homework.

After breakfast, he had moved the chairs and desks away to the edges of the classroom to create a practice arena of sorts, much to the delight of the students as they walked in for their lesson. Merlin could understand why they enjoyed the practical exercises, rather than the theory and textbooks side to learning; with spell casting, practice made perfect.

He had let them chose their own partners, knowing that if he matched the Slytherins with the Gryffindors there would very soon be blood and conflict. A collective sigh of relief had run through the students when he'd said as much. Sad really, Salazar had never really intended to completely exclude and isolate his house from the others to this extent.

He focused his attention on Draco Malfoy, who was obviously very gifted at attacking, relentlessly pelting his partner Blaise Zabini with hexes with minimal effort. His defence however, was lacking. A common mentality among arrogant or overly-confident individuals, although Merlin knew that his father had likely pushed him to learn the more attack-based spell work. In his turn to defend, he struggled to block the hexes. Merlin felt a prang of pity.

"Mr Malfoy, draw your arm back further when you bring your wand forward." He advised. Across the room, the boy scowled slightly but, surprisingly, did as he had been told. The next hex sent his way was easily blocked with the more streamlined movement.

Merlin drained his tea, setting it down on the desk. Noticing the time, he stood and clapped his hands together, "Okay, everyone."

The class lowered their wands at his signal, some looked very pleased with themselves, Harry and Ron included. The two were very naturally gifted at Defence against the Dark Arts, although Harry had good reason to be, given what the school had in store for him every year.

"Very good. You're all coming on magnificently, much more fluid with your movements, so well done. Your homework is on the board, don't panic its not a lot, only a list will be needed. Some research on the most commonly used hexes and their counter-spells. I've put an extension piece of work on the board too, in case you like this kind of thing and want to broaden your minds a bit more." Hermione seemed to brighten, scribbling down the homework with glee, but the rest of the class looked slightly disgusted. "I can tell from your enthusiastic response that this is the case. Jolly good. Okay, once you've copied that down you can go."

The class departed in a whirl of conversation and laughter. Neville was still packing away when Merlin remembered the plant he had carefully potted and placed in his window the night before. He grinned. "Mr Longbottom, hold on just a sec, I'll be right back!" He ran upstairs to his office, taking the stairs two at a time and noting with joy the confusion on the boy's face.

A few seconds later, he returned, carefully carrying the small potted plant in his hands. Neville stared in wonder at the black flower, the thorns and the sprinkling of white which dusted it. He let out a small choked noise as Merlin passed it to him with a smile.

"Its a very rare plant. Very unusual indeed and hard to come by, which I'm sure you're aware of. I thought you would like a little research project, with your love of Herbology being what it is. If you want, you can have this plant to observe for a few months, see how different types of water and light intensity affect its growth. Do a bit of research about it, see if you can find out its true name. If you want to take care of plants in the future, I think this is a really good start."

Neville's eyes widened and a large smile of delight spread across his face. "Really?!"

Merlin nodded, his expression warming further at the excitement of his student. The boy really did love Herbology, and from what Professor Sprout had told him, he had a way with plants.

"Thank you so much, Professor!" The boy cradled the flower to him protectively, as though it were a prize jewel. "I promise I'll look after it."

"I'm sure you will." Merlin smiled again as the boy left, the flower close to his chest. He wasn't worried, nothing that Neville could do to the plant would harm it in the slightest. It had grown in the forest of death, so for all intents and purposes the plant was already dead.

With a wave of his hand, his classroom rearranged itself. This worked well in both cases. The flower was giving Neville the chance to study a rare species of plant and gain knowledge, but it was also a very powerful protective measure, used by Druids of old to ward death and misfortune. Neville was sharing a room with Harry, so by extension, the protection would include him.

Harry would need that protection, now more than ever with Moody permitted to roam free in the school. At least Merlin could sleep easily knowing that the boy hadn't been murdered in his sleep.

Somewhere in the castle, he could feel a dark force stirring.

* * *

A/N: *Peeks out from behind a rock* Er, hi! Ahem. Please don't kill me. I hope that was alright, its been a while so my brain isn't really in gear. I've spent the first week of the holidays essentially going into hibernation, so that hasn't helped either. Ah well. Thank you so much again for the wonderful reviews, your support is amazing *cough* especially since I didn't expect anyone to actually read this *cough*. And thank you for the virtual food, I'm basking in the pretend piles of chocolate and cookies. You all get some too for being so nice about the last chapter *throws cookies into the air*. So yeah I'm not going to give anything away, but the fact Merlin is a Dragonlord is a big deal, I'm not just going to leave it out. As for other Merlin characters, you'll have to see. Cool. Thanks for reading all this stuff, you're obviously either very kind or very deluded. Or both. You're all awesome, is what I'm saying.


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